


Natasha's Got it Covered

by madasthehatterforalice



Series: Soulmates Universe [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthehatterforalice/pseuds/madasthehatterforalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD could not afford to be emotionally compromised, no matter how broken Phil Coulson the man felt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Met in a Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Johnlock Dabble](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/12950) by spookynerdwp. 



Phil Coulson and Clint Barton had been together for several years, they lived together, whenever they could manage, worked together, and trained together and yet it still surprised some people to find they were together. They’d been together since nearly the day they met. Phil had been sent to recruit Hawkeye into SHIELD.

Nothing about this day was the same other than it fell on the same date. 

_It was a stormy day, the kind that left the city in a twilight gloom despite it being nearly midday. Phil Coulson walked into the establishment his target had been frequenting the last week and took a seat at the bar. He knew his target was expecting him, for someone like him, he’s continued patronage was as good as an invitation._

_Phil ordered a scotch, though he had no intention of drinking it, and replayed the bar's occupants in his mind. He’d only taken a brief glance upon entering but that was all he needed. His target was at the corner booth on the far side of the room, the perfect spot from which to watch the door, looking about how you’d expect a sniper on the run._

_The man went by the codename Hawkeye and was by all reports the world’s greatest marksman by a far margin. Phil’s drink had only just arrived before Hawkeye appeared on the stool next to him._

_“So,” he said casually, taking a swig of his cheap beer, “are you here to picking me up or take me out?”_

_“That depends on how this conversation goes,” Phil answered._

_Hawkeye shrugged like it was a better answer than he was expecting and extended his hand, swiveling on his stool to face Phil for the first time, “Clint Barton.”_

_“Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” Phil said, taking his hand in a firm, brief shake. Once the agent released his hand Phil watched him adjust his sleeve slightly, obviously a habit he wasn’t really even aware of anymore._

_“So what’s the government want with me, Agent Coulson? You going to try to convince me to do my patriotic duty for the good of my country?” Barton looked mildly amused by that idea, but more than that he looked tired, like someone who’d been on the wrong side of the right thing too many times. He was either going to be the hardest or the easiest sell Phil had made yet._

_“Oh, we don’t do national security, we do global.” Barton raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t shut him down so Phil continued, “We specialize in the extraordinary, combating forces that would tear our world apart. So your options are: join us and make a real and lasting influence on the world or rot in a prison cell so deep even the sun will have forgotten you.”_

_“Well that would be rather awkward wouldn’t it,” Barton says with a smartass half smirk that crinkles his face but doesn’t bear any real humor, “but I’m in.”_

_“Good to hear, Barton,” easiest it is then._

_“Clint,” Barton continued before Phil could proceed, “You should call me, Clint.” The other man rolled up his right sleeve a single turn and presented Phil with his wrist._

_0000d 00h 00m 00s_

_For the first time since his military days Phil didn’t know how to respond. He just stared at Barton’s exposed wrist and then checked his own._

_0000d 00h 00m 00s_

_He doesn’t say anything but apparently Barton sees it anyway. “It didn’t affect my decision, just so you know, I’m just tired is all. Tired of following the wrong orders and tired of running.” His face is open and downtrodden and Phil finds that he helplessly believes him._

_“I have to make a call,” Phil said, using his flat “Agent Coulson” voice because he fears the alternative. Barton, Clint?, just nods and turns back to his beer._

 “Sir, the director’s helicopter is 5 minutes out.”

“Thank you, agent,” Phil replied without really looking up from his tablet. Sure reminiscing while supervising an evacuation caused by a glowing cube of alien energy being unpredictable was some sort of extreme multitasking but it was better than dwelling on the fact that his husband was in the same room as said unpredictable glowing cube.

This was his life.

Phil donned his sunglasses before approaching the helipad, it was really just to keep the swirling sand, kicked up by the chopper, out of his eyes but if the junior agents had other theories he could count it as a bonus.


	2. The Hawk Meets the Trickster

_"This is not how I expected this to go," Phil said taking a small sip of his drink. He didn't elaborate but Clint understood, it wasn't the usual way to meet your soulmate._

_“I didn’t either, that’s probably how I developed the habit of checking every time I met someone new. My countdown was always jumping all around. I just figured it was my lifestyle, though I guess it could have been yours too.”_

_“I stopped checking years ago for that reason,” Phil said, quietly like a confession, and Clint was totally calling him “Phil,” he was his soul mate he was taking that privilege._

_“Ok, this is getting way too heavy for a first date,” Phil raised an eyebrow at the term but didn’t correct him, “we’ve got to lighten this up. What’s your favorite color?”_

_The other man looked like he was ready to blush but was too well trained for it, interesting. “I’d prefer not to answer.”_

_“I’m your soul mate, Phil. I’m going to find out eventually.”_

_“You’ll laugh.”_

_“I already am.”_

_Phil sighed like telling Clint his favorite color was the worst thing he’d had to do all day, “Grey.”_

_“What?”_

_“My favorite color’s grey.”_

_“Wow, that’s…”_

_“Boring?”_

_“Unique,” Phil made a sort of scoffing sound but Clint continued, “’Sides, who am I to judge? My favorite color’s purple.” Phil raised his eyebrow again, the man could be very expressive with very minimal effort when he wanted to be, Clint probably found that more attractive than he really should have. “Yeah, I know. Call it a residual from my circus days but it’s true, I love purple. At least being a g-man you can surround yourself with grey if you want to, a purple colored sniper isn’t going to last long.”_

_The morning Clint passed all the appropriate security clearances he left Phil a present on his desk, a grey tie with a tiny purple arrow pattern. He wore it the day he proposed to Clint._

Ok, so watching boring stuffy science types stare alternately between a glowing blue cube and glowing blue computer screens, not the most interesting assignment Clint’s ever had. But on the plus side: he and Phil are stationed in the same place at once without anyone actively shooting at them so hey awesome. They even get to sleep in the same bed at night, at the same time. If that was one of the perks of being married to Director Fury’s “one good eye” Clint decided he could get very used to it.

Actually with all things considered this might go on the board at one of the best assignments of all time. No, there isn’t actually a board, their assignments are too sensitive for that but Clint keeps one in his mind and he’s pretty sure Phil keeps something similar in his only…Agent Coulson style. So maybe it’s not titled “Most Awesome Assignments Ever” like Clint’s is, it’s probably “Fully Successful Missions” or “Acceptable Assignments” or something but the point was Phil did the same thing and sharing private quarters with Clint on a non-life threatening mission definitely earned this assignment a place on that board whatever it’s “designation” was. 

Of course that’s when the god-like alien prima dona shows up and starts blowing shit up. Then crazy blows-stuff up guy declared, “You have a heart.”

Clint could tell what was coming the moment the spear touched his chest, like it transmitted its intentions. He used the last of his free will to shove every bit of love and Phil related information into a mental box labeled “lottery numbers” and bury it behind all the memories he loathed to touch. Then the world went blue and he focused on battling to be loyal to SHIELD even as every fiber of his body and all his conscious desire ached to serve Loki.


	3. Natasha's Got it Covered

Phil didn’t allow a single muscle twitch when Nick Fury pulled him aside to tell him the events that transpired after Loki showed up. He just nodded, “Understood, sir.”

Fury gave him a look that Phil understood from long years working with him to mean, “I know I can’t acknowledge how difficult this is but are you ok?”

Phil answered with a curt nod because there was no other answer at this point in his career. His whole world could fall to pieces and he would still be Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD, unflappable, unconcerned, unaffected. And at the current moment Phil fully felt that his whole world was falling apart.

Fury accepted his answer and moved forward, “From what Selvig was saying before it all went sideways, we’re going to need a very specific specialist on gamma radiation if we want any hope of getting that cube back.” He says cube but Phil hears “Barton” and knew he was meant to. “Call in Agent Romanoff, we’ll need her on this one.”

Phil nodded again and went to organize Natasha’s extraction. If his left thumb was rubbing over his ring finger no one said a word. As small a movement as it was no one probably noticed but to Phil it felt like the largest thing in the world.

They’d worn their rings for three days.

  1. Their wedding day, placing them on each other’s fingers in a hasty ceremony in Nevada on the way to New Mexico Phil still couldn’t believe Clint talked him into. They had been lucky enough to find one that fit Clint but Phil’s was nearly large enough to slip completely off. 
  2. The following day, watching the man they now knew to be Thor fight his way through dozens of agents in the pouring rain. It had done funny things to Phil’s secret sentimental side to see Clint shoot right handed that day because his ring was affecting his grip. 
  3. And most of the day the Destroyer Armor tried to flatten the nearby town, at least until they convinced a local tattoo artist to open shop despite the devastation. Now they both bore a tiny circle on the underside of their left ring finger. It was unnoticeable unless you were looking for it and barely so then.



_We haven’t even been married a week._

The Russian answered just as Phil caught himself thinking, _This must be what it feels like to lose your patience_ , because it had been years since he’d indulged the idea that he was even capable of losing his patience. The fact that he maintained it while being married to Clint Barton was a testament to his will power.

“Put the woman on the phone or I will blow up the block before you can reach the lobby,” Phil didn’t usually resort to threats so quickly but it was that kind of day.

When the man had wised up and Phil heard Natasha’s voice on the other end he had to exert actual effort into fortifying his control. They had a plan in place for this contingency. Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD could not afford to be emotionally compromised, no matter how broken Phil Coulson the man felt. To anyone else he was still unflappable Agent Coulson but he knew Natasha heard in his voice more than his words he needed her on this.

“Let me put you on hold,” Phil felt the weight in his chest lift. Natasha would take care of Clint, find him, make sure he was safe, bring him back. Natasha’s got it covered. Now he could just be Agent Coulson, confident that Natasha was carrying his emotions for him. He even let himself smirk when he informed her, “Oh, I’ve got Stark. You get the big guy.”


	4. Phil and Pepper in an Elevator

As soon as the elevator doors opened and he saw her on the couch next to Stark he was grateful he talked to Natasha first. _Natasha’s got it covered_. But Pepper’s voice is cheerful and he thinks talking with her might be just what he needs right now. Over the course of the last year of Stark consulting with SHIELD Phil has gotten to spend more than a little time with the red-head CEO.

She was the single most competent person he’d ever known. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she could rule the world if she put her mind to it, the world would be better off for it, probably even thank her for it. Clint said Phil had a “hetero-man-crush” on her. He’d often tease him that Phil was going to run off with her and have “creepy stoic super competent babies.” Phil would just roll his eyes at him and spend the next hour in bed showing him every reason that would never happen. He never let Clint hide his fears from him behind humor, it only let them grow. While he admired Pepper, he adored Clint.

“Tell me about the cellist is that still a thing?” she inquires as they leave Stark to his “homework.”

“She moved back to Portland.”

“What? Boo,” the elevator doors slide shut behind her, “I never got a chance to go see her.”

“We happened to catch her last concert less than a month ago.”

“Speaking of which: How is Clint? I hear you finally made an honest man out of him. Took you long enough you’ve been engaged to that poor man as long as I’ve known you.”

“It was ultimately his idea,” he replied rather softer than he intended. Phil wasn’t sure how to answer her inquiry. The information surrounding Clint’s status was classified but this was Pepper Potts, the only reason she didn’t know already was because Tony Stark was just now finding out about it. She was the one civilian that knew the true nature of his relationship with Clint Barton.

“JARVIS stop the elevator and initiated secure setting, no audio, no video, and no over-ride,” Pepper addressed the AI. JARVIS didn’t respond a function Phil assumed was part of its secure setting. When she spoke again her face had dropped its cheer and her voice was soft with sympathy, “Phil, what’s happened?”

“Clint’s been compromised, brainwashed, we don’t know where he is,” he doesn’t even bother to force himself to speak at full volume.

“Oh, Phil,” she starts but he can’t let her finish.

“Natasha’s got it covered,” he says because what else can he say? Natasha would kill for him or Clint without a question or a second thought but Pepper will drop multi-million dollar deals just to listen to his emotions. Not that he would ever ask her too but that doesn’t change the fact that she would.

She was silent for a moment but didn’t restart the elevator. “I take it you saw,” she said at last.

Phil knew without prompting she had mercifully changed the subject, he also knew what she was referring to, “I did.” Tony Stark’s timer had spontaneously begun counting down, displaying numbers rather than the asterisks it had during all the previous years of his life. The asterisks were noted by Natasha in his Avengers evaluation file. A person’s countdown wasn’t usually considered a factor but Stark’s lack of one was something that could be considered relevant.

“He hasn’t told me yet. It’s been 2 weeks, but he hasn’t told me yet. He has less than 24 hours before he meets them. I should be happy for him and I guess on some level I am, he did live his whole life without a countdown at all, I just thought…it was silly of me to think, but I did,” Pepper paused a moment then her tone calmed and even cheered a little, “I have been steadily moving my things out of the suite since I figured it out. While he is at his meeting tomorrow I have movers coming to finish the job. It really has been the world’s easiest break up…if the slowest.”

Phil was processing her statements and, finding her emotionally stable enough to handle it, voiced the question that had been burning since she began,“2 weeks?”

“Yeah, 2 weeks almost exactly. Why?” the curiosity rather than hurt in her voice was just another reason he admired her.

“Just a stunning coincidence,” Phil said pinching the bridge of his nose, there were very few people he could allow himself to emote around he was thankful Pepper was one of them, “A stunning, stupefying, awful coincidence.”

“Phil?”

This really had been the worse day in recorded history, and he was including Budapest in that assessment, “I know who his soul mate is.”

“Who?” normally someone would ask how but Pepper had too much knowledge of SHIELD to ask that question.

“We defrosted a certain national icon 14 days ago tomorrow.”

“Captain America? You think Tony’s…surely that must be a coincidence.”

“No offense to you, but I hope that it is.”

“Oh Lord, could you imagine?” she said, voice full of humor.

“I’m trying desperately not to.” He said dryly. Pepper just restarted their descent and giggled all the way down.


	5. Phil and Pepper Take a Car Ride

Phil saw Pepper shift a bit in her seat as he made an unexpected turn. They weren’t heading the direction she was expecting.

“We have a stop to make first,” he said, “I need to pick the Captain up for transport.” He tried to sound professional but amongst his friends, and Pepper was definitely a friend, his Captain America obsession was well known.

“Tony is going to be so mad when he finds out I met _him_ first.” She was certainly taking this all in stride. Of course, she had been dating Iron Man for the past year.

“It won’t be awkward for you will it?” he asked, mostly out of politeness since he was fairly certain of the answer.

“As long as I don’t open with, ‘Hi, so I hear you are my boyfriend’s soulmate.’ I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not definite that he is,” Phil tried to interject.

Pepper just gave him a look that told him precisely how well she knew him: too well. She knew he wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. Two things he never joked about: his work and Captain America. But her knowing stare was not helping his mindset of denial.

Then she shifted her gaze to look down at herself and sighed, obviously becoming acutely aware of her travel clothing of choice. She was still in her white top and cut off shorts, though she’d grabbed a pair of sneakers with her luggage. She looked more “down home” than “fortune 500.” “Not exactly dressed to impress though am I?” she said.

“I don’t know, you do have rather impressive legs,” his voice was dry but there was a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Phil!” Pepper exclaimed with a laugh, “What would your husband say?”

“He’s the one who pointed it out to me,” he tried hard not to flinch at the mention of Clint _Natasha’s got it covered_ but the fake-leather of the steering wheel creaked under his grip and Pepper politely ignored it. For all she was a beauty she was a soldier, business was just a different kind of warfare. She knew what it was like to have to soldier on when all you wanted to do was curl up in a dark corner and cry about how cruel and unfair life is. She'd had her moment, some time during these last days, when she knew it was over, when she'd had to hide her breaking heart from the world and surge forward. She'd had her moment, this was Phil's and she wasn't going to call him on it.

“You could have told me before we left Stark Tower.”

“Now where would be the fun in that?”

“You just want me to feel awkward so you won’t have to.”

“You’ve spent the last decade working closely with Tony Stark; I doubt you’re even capable of feeling awkward anymore.”

She sighed in faked melancholy, “It would be funnier if it wasn’t true.”

They pulled up to the apartment complex then. Phil parked the car in what was clearly not a parking space, his favorite part of working for SHIELD, and exited to join Pepper on the sidewalk. She was gaping up at the building like she had never seen its like before, “Captain America lives _here_?”

“He refused to live at SHIELD,” Phil responded with a shrug.

“I wonder why,” she responded and he opted to ignore her sarcasm.

Instead he approached the door and depressed the buzzer.

“Hello?” came the voice. And _Oh my god that’s Captain America’s voice! I’m talking to Captain America!_

_Deep breath, Phil, we’ve done this a thousand times._

_We have not done this a thousand times! This is Captain America!_

_Yes, it is and right now he needs to know your name and business._

_But, Captain America!_

_Name, Phil. Start with your name._

“Captain Rogers? This is Agent Phil Coulson from SHIELD. I’m here to transport you to the Atlantic Office.”

“Ok, I’ll be down in a moment.” The speaker went silent and Phil could hear Pepper suppressing giggles behind him. For all she was vicious and strong Phil’s fanboy side could bring even the solid Pepper Potts to fits of laughter. It really wasn’t helping his self-esteem at the moment. He couldn’t begrudge her, he just wished Clint was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short I know but I'm really struggling with Phil finally meeting Cap. I want it to be just right so please be patient.


	6. While You Were Sleeping

Phil had been dreaming about this day for as long as he could remember, far before he heard the announcement that Captain America had been found alive in the ice of the Arctic Circle. Long after he’d given up checking his timer, long after he’d given up looking in stranger’s faces for his soulmate, he never gave up hope that he’d meet Cap someday. It was childish, like Fury’s secret boyhood desire to be an astronaut, but it had always been in his heart.

Then Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, had been sitting in the back of Phil’s car alive, breathing, and oozing patriotism, bravery, morality, and a thousand other things Phil had strove everyday to emulate. All Phil could do was listen to him chat pleasantly with Pepper and focus on the road…and breathe. Phil was more than a little embarrassed by it because he _knew_ Pepper was fully aware of just what it meant that Phil was silent during the drive. Agent Phil Coulson _did not_ have panic attacks, of course Captain America wasn’t supposed to just sit politely in his car and have a faltering attempt at casual conversation with Pepper Potts.

_Breathe Phil. Air is good,_ he could hear Clint saying in his mind. He could clearly picture his face as if he was sitting in the seat next to him, deeply amused and slightly smug. Clint was a cruel sadistic bastard but he was _Phil’s_ cruel sadistic bastard and he wanted him back. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sure Phil had always dreamed of meeting Captain America but ever since Clint had entered his life he had never dreamed of doing it without him.

_Natasha’s got it covered. She has to have it covered. Oh god, please have it covered._

Though they’d had this contingency plan in place for a few years they’d never had to utilize it to this extent before. Sure there had been the odd FUBAR mission, kidnapping, or hostage situation but this? This was gods and magic and instant brainwashing. This was so different it was beyond worrying.

_Natasha’s got it covered._ But that didn’t change the fact that _Captain America_ was in his back seat, looking every bit like his propaganda posters while sitting awkwardly in uncomfortable silence after they’d dropped Pepper off. It made him wish he’d brought along a tablet for Cap to review on the drive. Of course with the way the last 24 hours had been it was likely no one had shown Captain America how to work one yet.

They are on board the quinjet and well on their way before Phil could work up anything to say. Captain Rogers was seated along one of the quinjet’s outer benches, tablet angled to his face. The man’s adaptability knew no bounds, evidenced by how quickly he picked up using the window of images. It certainly wasn’t a testament to the tablet’s user-friendly capabilities, they were neigh to negligible. Hammer-tech. Phil took more than a little pleasure at handling Stark’s possible soulmate a Hammer-tech tablet. He wasn’t normally a petty man Tony Stark just had that effect on people.

“So, this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?” It was the first time the Captain had directed a question at Phil and it was the perfect opening. Phil talked about Captain America all the time so talking to Captain America about Captain America, he could do that. All he had to do is not sound like the “creepy, stalker fanboy” Clint was always teasing him for being.

“A lot of people were. You were the world’s first superhero,” it was an excellent start: truthful, vaguely complimentary without being overly sappy. Phil was actually pretty proud of himself. “Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula.”

“Didn’t really go his way did it?”

_This is really happening. A real conversation with Captain America._

“Not so much. When he’s not that thing, though, the guy’s like a Stephen Hawking.” Cap looked up at him confused as Phil brain supplied _Einstein. Einstein was the genius of his generation. Recover. Recover!_ “He’s like a...smart person.”

_Smooth._

His inner voice was sounding more and more like Clint every day.

_You say that like it’s a bad thing, Sir._

“I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you...officially. I’ve sort of met you. I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping.”

_God, Phil. Really? Creepy._

_And now he’s walking away._

“I mean, I was present while you were unconscious from the ice."

_And now you're chasing after him._

"You know, it’s really just a huge honor to have you on board this…”

_Somebody stop me._

Phil knew he would be mocked for all of living memory over this because security recorded all happenings on quinjets, i.e. there was video evidence of just how badly Phil embarrassed himself. He can already hear Clint’s teasing tone as he uses an incomplete vernacular to draw parallels between this conversation and teenage girls swooning over British actors.

“Well I hope I’m the man for the job.”

“Oh, you are. Absolutely,” Phil responded before going on about Captain America’s new uniform. He wasn’t sure what all he said only that he was seconds away from throwing himself out into the ocean. At this point, Cap would probably open the door for him.

They were still 40 minutes from the helicarrier and Phil spent the time trying really, really hard not to bring up his mint-condition, vintage Captain America trading card set. A fool could see the man was already uncomfortable enough and just now Phil definitely felt like a fool. Cool, unflappable Agent Phil Coulson, reduced to a puddle of fanboy goo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Phil. I think an alternate title for this should have been "Phil Coulson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."


	7. Everything Was Blue.

Blue. Blue. Everything was blue. The stone walls, the combat boots on other men’s feet as they pounded a marching jog down long winding tunnels, Loki’s eyes as he issued the orders, all blue. Clint had some idea that perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be, all the blue, but it wasn’t his job to question. He followed orders.

Clint’s last order had been to choose this place. Loki didn’t praise him for his excellent choice but he didn’t need Loki’s praise, he needed orders. Through Loki he got those orders. Most of the time vocally but sometimes he just _knew_ what needed done, like orders were beamed directly into his brain. It seemed strange but not unusual in this new blue world.

He felt empty in a way the orders could never fill. They tried. They turned the hole in him into a sea of blue and blue words. It was as though the blue was his own blood. Yet still he was empty, like someone had cut out a sizable chunk of his chest. This person wore a black suit and sunglasses in the dark but had no name. It hurt whenever he saw his hands. He didn’t know why and Loki didn’t ask, so he had no reason to tell, and he would need a reason.

Loki sat off to the side of the main chamber, seemingly watching his underlings scurry about. But he wasn’t watching. He’s eyes didn’t blink, didn’t flicker, didn’t track any movement. Clint saw better from a distance and right now, with his stillness and thousand yard stare, Loki was very distant. He did this sometimes, went so utterly still and distant, only to come back with a flinch like someone had struck him straight through his skull. Clint might have his orders but he still noticed things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter but we'll be seeing more of Clint later.


	8. A Friend for Phil

Phil was a bit ashamed at how relieved he was when Natasha approached him on the deck and gave him an excuse to part company with his idol. At this point he could have only embarrassed himself further. The remaining 35 minutes and 57 seconds of the flight to the helicarrier had been endured in awkward silence. Silence where Captain Rogers deliberately tried to covertly keep as much distance between them as the small cabin would allow and Phil tried to think of something to say to make up for his previous bumbling. Finding nothing he opted to let the silence remain and hoped that alone would salvage his appearance. He knew it wouldn’t.

At least Director Fury would give Phil a task to keep his mind off both his embarrassment and his worry. This really had been the worse day.

“‘I watched you while you were sleeping?’” Jasper Stilwell met him at the deck door, matching pace with him down the corridor.

“Not my finest hour,” Phil agreed before moving on, relying on the other man to drop it, “Where are we on locating Loki?”

“But then, ‘I was present while you were unconscious?’” Stilwell was not to be dissuaded, “I’d say you were a bit star struck but then I’m sure the helicarrier would sink under the weight of how _enormous_ of an understatement that is.”

“You are a fine agent, Stilwell,” Phil delivered in his best “Agent Coulson” voice, “but continue on this line of discussion and I will ensure you see yourself on every Stark related assignment for the foreseeable future.” There was good-fun teasing to be had on this topic, Phil didn’t bother to kid himself about that. But the Norse god of mischief and lies was running around their planet with potentially infinite source of energy, now was really not the time from this.

“Someone needs to make sure you don’t take yourself too seriously until Barton gets back,” Stilwell’s tone had not lost its hint of light nor had his pace slowed. Either Phil was losing his touch or Stilwell had a point to make.

“I don’t need looked after,” Phil insisted.

Stilwell made a soft noise of disbelief, “Agent Romanoff has been on every agent from here to sundry making sure every step to find Agent Barton that _can_ be taken _is_ taken. I think _precisely_ what you need right now is looked after.” Phil’s next step faltered a bit before Stilwell continued. “Can’t have SHIELD’s most famously vindictive agent coming home to find we’ve all been neglecting his husband. It’s really just enlightened self interest, Coulson.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Phil didn’t smile…except a bit in his head. “Enlightened self interest” was about as close as “I care” as SHIELD agents got, it was the sentiment that separated friends from colleagues. Colleagues pulled you out of the fire for selfless reasons. A SHIELD agent’s job was to be selfless for the greater good of all. Friends did it for selfish reasons. They wanted you to stick around. “Enlightened self interest:” Just a SHIELD way of stating friendship.

Jasper locked gazes with him for quick moment before giving Phil a small nod. Then the SHIELD roles fell back into place as Jasper proceeded to fill him in on the progress made while Phil was making a drooling fool of himself in front of Captain America. Phil listened attentively making a small note in the back of his mind adding Jasper Stillwell to the list of people who unprofessionally have his back. It is a short list but Phil prefers it like that. It is an elite status, being Phil Coulson’s friend.

  * _Agent “Hawkeye” Clint Barton_
  * _Agent “Black Widow” Natasha Romanoff_
  * _Virginia “Pepper” Potts_
  * _Agent Jasper Stillwell_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. Sorry it took so long. It's been mostly done for a while but the rough edges were especially stubborn.


	9. A "Sir" Shaped Hole

Dealing with Dr. Selvig up close was more tedious than watching him from afar. The man was too happy, too free with his words. Clint didn't need conversation he needed facts, he needed orders, he needed to serve Loki and he didn't need conversation for that. Right now for example, Clint just needed to know if the chemical on the screen was the one Dr. Selvig needed, he _didn't_ need to know what the thing was used for or why he needed it.

Clint thought Loki was too tolerant of Dr. Selvig's "truth" tangents. He tried to make that clear in his answer, "My next target."

Loki was blissfully direct with him. It dove into a blue filled void in him and tried to fit, it didn't, but it didn't matter. He had his orders, that was all he needed. He didn't need to be filled in all those empty holes that riddled through him like a termite’s lair. Blue. Orders. Blue, blue orders.

He didn't question Loki's orders, curiosity wasn't in his new job description, but he never called him "sir" if he tried it sat on his tongue like a betrayal, though he didn't know to whom.

His bow flipped into shape in his hand with a satisfying jerk. He could clearly recall loving that feeling since the day it was handed to him by some fond, faceless individual with pride in his voice.

Then Loki asked for all the information on Fury's response team.

There was a gap in his intel so he filled it with more information on Natasha.

"Where is your heart Agent Barton?" Loki questioned with amusement in his voice, obviously noticing how much Clint spoke of Natasha.

"My heart is not up for grabs," his answer is immediate and instinctive. So much so he had no idea why he said it.

"Oh?" Loki said, a spike of interest running through his voice, "Tell me about her."

He does. He tells him every last bit of information he can pull from his blue filled brain on Natasha Romanoff. Everything he could think of, from her sordid past to her favorite sandwich. It felt like cashing in a favor but he couldn't think of why. Because Loki was right in his original assessment: Clint Barton did have a heart, but it was spoken for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last an update. Sorry for the delay.


	10. Phil the Fanboy: Take Two

After Natasha led Dr. Banner off to the lab they had prepared for him, Phil began considering the possibility of getting his prized Captain America cards signed by the man himself. Maybe asking on the bridge, with so many witnesses, wasn’t such a good idea. But with the way he’d alienated the man on the quinjet chances were Captain Rogers would never want to be in a private location with him ever again.

_Ok, Phil, you can be professional about this. I know you can. So let’s play this out._

_“So, I have these cards…”_

_Why even bring up the cards? No reason to re-point out what a huge fan you are. Just ask for his autograph and be done._

_“I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time…”_

_Way to sound like a teenage girl with a crush._

_What would Clint do?_

_“Hey, so, yeah, my husband has this HUGE fanboy crush on you and it would just MAKE his collection if you could sign these cards for him.”_

Phil could vividly imagine Clint doing just that and was for a brief moment _almost_ glad he wasn’t here.

_Ok, you’re obviously over-thinking this. He’s just a guy, right? A guy who just happens to be the living personification of all you’ve ever aspired to be…I can’t do this!_

_Phil! Keep yourself together,_ there was that Clint voice again _, You can do this. You’ve face down drug lords and kingpins and me in the morning. What’s one man to all that? Now, deep breath…and…GO!_

Even as Phil’s approaching him, he has no idea what he’s going to say. What he ends up going with, after babbling on about the technology they are employing to track down Loki, is: “I’ve got these trading cards I’d like you to sign.”

Captain Rogers doesn’t even have to look at him, he’s staring straight ahead and Phil can almost _feel_ the how insulted he is.

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

_Nice cover._ The Clint voice in his head is doing an excellent job of distracting him because at the moment Phil just wants Clint here so he can tell him to shut up.

Then Captain Rogers is saying, “No, no, it’s fine.” Like he wasn’t offended at all. Which, of course, the fanboy in Phil takes at the complete go ahead to give _Captain America_ way more information then is anywhere close to professional or normal about said cards.

“We got a hit,” god bless, Stillwell, “A 67% match.”

When Phil responds he’s not sure if the relief in his voice is for Clint or himself.


	11. Forget Waldo, Where's Clint?

Phil is vaguely aware for Fury giving the Captain his orders before he hears the director saying his name.

"Coulson, I want you to assemble a team. Monitor our people on the ground."

Phil nodded, already moving. Thing was, the plan doesn't call for any people on the ground. The plan was to come in high and hope the Captain could bring Loki in, with Stark as backup as necessary. Therefore, Phil's orders were to assemble a team to keep an eye out for the agents Loki hijacked, for _Clint_.

"Yes, sir. Lee, Nguyen, you're with me."

He doesn't even have to think about it anymore. It's like instinct knowing what assents are around and how to use them. In this case it's agents and their skills.

He doesn't take the best. He goes for second, the best are needed at their stations, and second best in SHIELD is still pretty damn good.

He doesn't turn around but he can hear the three agents following him down the hallway.

He doesn't think about the fact he just picked a team to catch his husband.

He doesn't.

The room set aside for the monitoring is small, three walls nearly entirely taken up by monitors in front of the center most cluster was the comms agent already assigned, Agent Himmelstien. This was Aaron Himelstien's last assignment on board the helicarrier before his transfer to the Triskelion.

Lee was the first to speak, nearly as soon as he was in the room, in fact, "Sir, if Fury is only sending in the one quinjet, but what exactly are we monitoring?"

_Ok, I can do this. It's just another mission. Natasha's en route. Natasha's got it covered._

"Loki won't be alone. He's arrogant not stupid. He collected a few souvenirs at Pegasus," Phil said, his "Agent Coulson" voice coming out clear and strong just like he'd trained himself, "We are monitoring for hostile friendlies."

"I have the recognition software loaded and ready to get looking for whatever 'help' Agent Barton might have recruited," Himelstein said, still not looking up from his ever increasing lines of numbers.

"Agent Barton?" Lee acted surprised.

"Those 'souvenirs' I mentioned? Not exactly snow globes," Phil replied, choosing not to acknowledge that surprise as the jab at his ability to run this mission that it was, "Agent Nguyen, tell me. Who would you recruit?"

"SHIELD's second most competent enemies, sir."

"Protocol dictates we prioritize the most likely hostiles," Lee said, like he was two steps from intercepting Nguyen's recommendation, which, he probably was.

Kyle Lee was used to being in charge of his own ops. "In control" was his default setting. "Personal need for order" was what it said in his file if Phil remember correctly. He did but that wasn't the point.

"Exactly why we should be looking for the second most likely," Nguyen replied, no nonsense, not insulted just stating facts,"Agent Barton knows our protocols."

"Right," Phil nodded, then turned to Himelstein, "Let's get on that."

This is why he'd chosen Nguyen for this. Sociopaths were useful to have around when you needed uncompromising logic.

Bob Nguyen was a strange case, even for SHIELD. A sociopath with very strict rules for himself and he'd chosen SHIELD to set him those rules. Though, occasionally, he did need reminded of them.

For now, however, it was time to wait. So Phil donned his best unflappable mask, crossed his arms, and scanned the screens for any sign of Clint. Wait and watch and... _Natasha's got it covered._

When Phil found himself...over extended he found he crossed his arms like that could hold him together. Clint told him it was one of his tells, one of his little ticks and traits that not even SHIELD could train out of him, like his tendency to sway in place when he was trying to be casual. It used to embarrass Phil to be so readily transparent but he'd long since gotten over it. He had long since realized it was only _Clint_ he was so obvious to. So it was only Clint who could see that when Agent Phil Coulson stood there, arms crossed, staring at a bank of monitors, the emotion he was trying to hold at bay was hope.

"Agent Coulson, sir," Himelstein called out, unnecessary for the small space, "We've got a hit."

Not even seeing his face outlined like an enemies could stop Phil's heart from rising into his throat.

_Clint._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, an update! All of the thanks to dottirofmonsters at tumblr for being my beta, sounding board, and motivator.


	12. 1 Step, 2 Steps, Blue Steps, Blue Steps

Being Loki's blue soldier takes no thought. 

Guard. Draw. Aim. Shoot.

Guard. Left. Draw. Aim. Shoot.

Door. Bag. Tool. Wait.

Beep. Door.

Drawer. Iridium.

Good. Now he had more important things to plan.


	13. Stark Problems

It was just Phil's luck today that he now had to track Stark down, where ever he had decided to wander after divesting himself of his armor, and make sure he made it to the briefing. All of this only made worse by the fact that Stark Industries had _designed_ the helicarrier. Stark could have made himself a little a hidey-hole and no one would be the wiser.

He found him in a storage bay staring at a blank wall.

"Mr. Stark," Phil began, and Stark started like he hadn't heard him come in, perfect, "if you'll follow me."

Stark made a motion that vaguely portrayed his agreement while turning to head Phil's direction. In that movement Phil saw the other man's wrist:

_0000d 00h 00m 00s_

For a minute he thinks he is going to say something about it. Maybe he heard about Phil's minor Captain America collection and is going to rub his fate-chosen soulmate in his face. But then he starts talking, "So, Portland. That kind of distance has got to put a strain on the relationship..." and Phil has never been more certain that Stark knows he saw his timer.

The further they walk, the clearer it became that not only did Stark _not_ wish to talk about his recent soulmating to Captain Rogers but he seemed to be under the impression that Phil was in a relationship with the cellist Audrey Nathan, a long distance one at that.

In the back of his mind he could _hear_ Clint laughing his ass off.

* * *

 

They weren't even in the room yet and Stark was already spouting off techno-babble, strutting in, reminding everyone he is now the smartest man in the room. It made Phil smirk despite everything because he could see it for the mating display that it was.

"I'm just saying, pick a weekend. I'll fly you to Portland. Keep love alive." Even as he was talking Phil was doing his best to bow out, to get away, because there was only so long he could pretend Stark’s delusion about Miss Nathan was _solely_ hilarious, but that comment was making the smile slide right off his face and of all people he did not need Tony Stark seeing how broken he was inside. As he headed round the table to retrieve the file waiting for him in the hands of a junior-agent he pretends, through the pain, that his first name was "Agent." Phil took the file gratefully and immediately clutched it to his chest, thankful every eye in the room was on Stark rather than his minor slip in composure.

He watched Stark circle the table, spouting science-technobable in every direction, like a child with a new line-up of toys trying to decide which one to play with first, or which one would play with him, Phil never proclaimed to have a solid handle on simile.

On top of it all, if Phil hadn't been certain the Captain was Stark's soulmate he'd swear the billionaire was... _flirting_ with Doctor Banner.

That man was just _inventing_ new ways to be a pain in his neck.


	14. Asgardian Guard Puppy

The thing about Thor was he was impossibly old and yet so very young. “Son of Coul!” Thor exclaimed.

Phil had been signing off on the file he was handed. The gun he’d ordered was ready to enter testing. Well, “gun” might be putting it a bit lightly for something that was essentially a miniaturized Destroyer Armor with a trigger. But Thor bounded up to Phil like a puppy and for a “man” of his bulk to do that definitely commanded your attention.

“It is joyous that we should fight along side each other again!” This joy was expressed in a clap on the shoulder that nearly dislocated it before the god sobered, “Though it sadness me that we must again fight my brother.”

“We don’t hold you accountable for Loki’s actions.” Phil diverted his attention minutely to thank the agent who came to take the signed file and pass it on.

Thor watched the hand off happen. His gaze clearly lingering on the agent’s exposed wrist. “I have noticed humans bear these numbers on their wrists. I confess it confuses me. What is the meaning?”

Phil cast a woeful glance at his own wrist _Natasha’s got it covered_ before answering him, “We’re born with them. It’s a countdown to the day we meet our soul mate.”

“Soul mate?” Thor spoke slowly, “I know these words but together they have no meaning.”

“I’m not surprised, if it’s a strictly human phenomenon. A soul mate is our perfect partner. They complete us. They are our...our other half.” Even as he said them, Phil felt distant to his words, like they belonged to someone else, someone who didn’t _feel_ quite so much.

“And have you met this…half, Son of Coul?” Thor inquired.

“I have. We were married the day before you and I met.”

"Most excellent! I would meet your beloved, my friend," If it wasn’t for all the time Phil can worked in close proximity to Natasha it would probably be alarming how quickly Thor could go from deadly serious to playful puppy between one thought and the next.

"He's," deep breath you can do this, _Natasha's got it covered you can talk about it as long as Natasha's got it covered_ , "Loki took him."

Thor's sunny smile clouded over, "I swear to you, Son of Coul, on our friendship, I will ensure that no harm befalls him.”

He was taken aback by Thor’s pronouncement.

  * Agent “Hawkeye” Clint Barton 
  * Agent “Black Widow” Natasha Romanoff 
  * Virginia “Pepper” Potts 
  * Agent Jasper Stillwell 
  * Prince Thor Odinson



Well how about that. 

Phil directed him to a nearby console to change the subject, “As soon as Loki took the doctor, we moved Jane Foster. They’ve got an excellent observatory is Tromsø. She was asked to consult there very suddenly yesterday. Handsome fee, private plane, very remote. She’ll be safe.” 

“Thank you. It is no accident, Loki taking Erik Selvig. I dread what he plans for him once he’s done.” Phil fought down a flinch when he thought of what that could mean for Clint. “Erik is a good man.” For all he was a prince, Thor certainly wasn’t a diplomat. He had a big heart it just seemed to not always be connected to his brain. Phil chose to file that as a subtle hint from his friend that Loki would not take special notice of Clint. Even if Loki had taken note of Thor’s…affection for Phil he had no way of drawing that connection to Clint. He could only hope Clint didn’t reveal that information. 

There were other things said, some even by him but Phil’s mind seemed stuck on a loop. 

_ “I dread what he plans for him once he’s done.”  _

_Deep breaths, Phil. Natasha’s got it covered. Focus._

“You think you can make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?” Phil hadn’t full noticed Fury but that got his attention. Thor was a strange amalgamation of old and young that make Phil want to seek his guidance and shelter him like a duckling in turn. Just being around him was like getting whiplash. But hearing this tenderhearted, though blood soaked, man being asked to torture his beloved, though crazy, brother settled Phil very firmly on the protecting side of the fence. 

Nick Fury was his boss but when Fury began descending the stairs Phil found he had moved so that the guardrail wasn’t between him and the other two. Though in what way Phil would be able to defend a god he didn’t really consider. He just stood there, arms crossed, trying not to interfere, but knowing he would do just about anything to keep this task from falling to Thor. 

He also knew Thor would not be the first card Fury played. Not with the Black Widow in the deck.


	15. Clint Fights a Friend, Phil Fights an Enemy

The attack was going perfectly. Clint had planned each detail. This was the true gift the Tesseract had given him, the chance to show the intelligence he used to keep under wraps.

Orders. _His_ orders. Being followed to the letter. He was good at this. Loki had told him, he knew he would be. Saw him talking in New Mexico. Clint didn’t remember the conversation Loki was referring to, it was a blue filled hole in his memory, but it didn’t matter.

He had planned for everything. Shield would never see them coming. And their protectors would be too busy keeping them aloft to keep Clint from success.

 

* * *

 

_“Coulson, initiate defensive lockdown in the detention section then get to the armory.”_

Phil had barely heard Fury’s order before formulating a plan, an off shoot of the plan Fury clearly had in mind. The best chance any mere mortal could have at defeating a god.

_Come back safe, Phil. Come back or I'll kill you myself._

A plan with a slight modification. Clint was going to come back to him _Natasha's got it covered_ the least he could do is be there waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Then he saw her, lit in blue. Natasha Romanoff. For some reason, not in his orders so he doesn't question, he gets a vague idea she wasn't who he was expecting. Skill would not work on her. She was far too familiar with him. Regardless, she could not get in the way of his mission. He had his orders.

Fighting her was the most effort he’d had to expend since escaping Pegasus with Loki. He remembers her movements. In a time so separated from him they are barely his memories anymore he remembers fighting by her side, remembers fighting her on a mat, in a ring, playing and losing each time. She let him win once, only once, but it was pity then.

She didn’t let him win this time. The blue was overtaken, for a brief moment, by the blinding clear light of _pain_. He looked up and there she was, a halo of red in the sea of blue. A window or a knife he’s not conscious long enough to determine.

“Natasha?”

 

* * *

 

The walk from the armory to detention was not far but it was not the easy stroll it normally would have been. The halls and corridors where a mess of agents fighting mercenaries, all wearing the same thing, friend and foe mixing up in a homogeneous mix Phil hoped to never see again. Amid the sea of tactical armor he is a single suit, a strategically unassuming suit with a Big Ass Gun…he stands out a little. All the same, he ponders as he lays out another mercenary with the heel of his shoe, he wouldn’t trade his suit for all the tactical armor in the world.

He put on his unassuming suit everyday thinking, _This is what I’ll be wearing when I save the world_ , because that’s what SHIELD does, they save the world. They save the world in a thousand understated, larger-than-life ways that theme songs, flair, and capes never could. Phil puts his suit on and thinks, _I wonder if this is what Captain America feels like, wearing his uniform_ , because he absolutely believes in what he’s doing, he believes in _heroes_. Even if, sometimes, heroes need a little help.

This time he lifts the Destroyer gun, using it like a club on the goon in his way. _I wonder if this is what Cap felt like the first time he held his shield_.

“Move away, please.”


	16. Death of a Hero

_Ok, this is bad. Is getting stabbed through the chest supposed to feel like this?_ Phil had been stabbed a truly alarming number of times in an equally alarming number of locations but never the chest. He’d been lucky like that. For a hysterical moment he thought he could feel the smooth roundness of the gem where it entered beneath his shoulder blade.

In the shock of it he didn’t even feel how he ended up on the floor, propped up against the wall, his right heel wedged into a hole in the grate. Did he slide or slump or did he just…drop like so many potatoes? A slump was what he was hoping for, Phil decided, he was certainly slumped now so it only stood to reason that a slump was also how he got there.

All these thoughts must pass in a moment because Loki has barely made it to the control panel when Phil focuses back in on the rest of the world.

It takes everything in him, everything not leaking out onto the floor, to remember how to move his limbs, they seem so far from him. Moving the Destroyer gun up to his raised leg and aiming is possibly the most exhausting thing he’s ever done. In the end it’s all he can do to get it pointed in _vaguely_ the right direction.

He only had one shot at this, the weapon was still in its testing phase, there was no way of knowing if it would even fire a second time but even if it could, even if it did, there was no way Loki would still be there for a second attempt. So Phil got him talking. Focused the god’s attention back on him, rather than the space where Thor used to be.

“You’re going to lose.”

Loki instantly turned to him. Phil wished he had the energy to smile because he knew that would work. Thor was the only one Loki even truly thought of as a threat, Loki already considered himself a king.

With each back and forth Loki moved a little closer to Phil, a little closer to lined up with the Destroyer gun’s barrel. When he did finally step into the perfect spot…Well, no one needed to know the secret pleasure Phil got from cutting off a villain.

“So that’s what it does.”

There might have been a smile in his voice but at that point he really couldn’t tell. His brain was becoming more and more disconnected with his muscles.

Dying. He was really dying. Guess his “plan with an alteration” didn’t work out as well he had hoped.

In it all, Phil wasn’t sure how long it took Fury to get to him, his world has narrowed down to pain and the warm sensation flowing down his chest and back. Phil was thankful that, at the moment, he could still see Fury’s face, could still see that look of friendship Nick so infrequently gave him. There was a point, sometime after Phil was recruited, that they might have been friends, but Fury chose Shield and Phil…Phil found Clint. After that, Shield didn’t rank highly enough in Phil’s mind for Fury anymore, like it was somehow Phil’s fault that Fury’s soulmate died without him and Phil got to keep his. It was a rift between them, but not one Phil would ever give up Clint to bridge. Phil may have chose Shield over a normal life but he chose Clint over Shield in a thousand little ways, none of which escaped the eye of Nick Fury.

It was why Phil was his good eye instead of his right hand. He could trust Phil’s observations, his reports, but when it came right down to it, there was no question between them on where his loyalties were.

He could feel his voice going, the room already a blur of greys and black as he tried to communicate the mission. “…it was never going to work if they didn’t have…someone to oppose.” He wasn’t sure how much actually made it into the air but time was up so he let go.

His last thought was a hope that Clint would regain himself enough to mourn him.

 

* * *

 

The fallout from blue was a hyper-saturation of color Clint never would have thought to exist outside an acid trip. A very lucid, painful acid trip.

It felt like he had a Tasha-sized boot-shaped dent in his head and, from her face across the room, he might just.

He blinked, blinked, and blinked again to get those damn colors out of his eyes. No, this wasn't like an acid trip. This was like coming down from one without any of the height or glory of ever being high. The memories of his time as Loki’s lackey stood out in his mind in a vivid blue, starkly contrasted against the technocolor background of his previous memories, with one blank, blaring exception.  _Lottery numbers._

“How many agents did I…” he doesn’t even make it through the question before she interrupts him.

"This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for." He hears what she didn't say, _You didn't fail_. It's not failing if the cards are stacked against you. You didn't fail, you just never stood a chance.

When he can see clearly again the weight in her shoulders is obvious. Default to situation normal: humor.

“Well, if I put an arrow thought Loki’s eye socket, I would sleep better, I suppose.”

“Now you sound like you,” she said, a little of the smile was back in her voice, as much as it ever did when she was being herself rather than whoever she had to be for the mission.

“But you don’t,” pushing Natasha was a delicate process, thankfully it was also one Clint had prefect over the years, he could do it without much thought at this point. Right at this moment it was obvious to him that she was not telling something, something that was weighing heavily on her mind, “You’re a spy not a soldier. Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?”

“He didn’t. I just…I've been compromised," she said, pulling up the sleeve on her suit to expose her wrist for the slightest moment. To anyone else, not that there was anyone around, it would look like a nervous shifting of clothes but he saw in her wrist the things she doesn't say.

 _Oh._ Nat had a soulmate. Under normal circumstances he would be ribbing her mercilessly for it. These were far from normal circumstances. Natasha had always told him, "Love is for children."

"I've got red in my ledger," she says, "I need to wipe it out." The look on her face said _I need to be worthy_ and he could see that her mantra was sounding a bit hollow in her own ears.

 _Don't take my duty from me_ , she doesn't say, _I need this_. He doesn't tell her it will be all right because the Black Widow doesn't stand for platitudes and Natasha needs to be the Black Widow right now. So he watches his best friend bury pain and guilt and bear the weight of his heart and hers.

It wasn't until he was splashing the water on his face to rinse ways the last remnants of blue that he permitted himself to dig out that ignored box. He didn't want to, buried as it was beneath ever horrible thing he'd ever had to witness or endure. But it called to him in that it didn't. Every memory around it screamed to be opened, agonized over but this was a blank, silent spot among them.

That coupled with the fact Clint had never played the lottery in his life made it shine out like a beacon.

Carefully, cautiously he peeked inside.

Then, with all the suddenness of a thunderstorm, the memories streamed out and he remembered.

Phil.

His soulmate.

Clint dove, fear driven, into the blue tinted memories, searching each face. Searching for what he was desperate not to find: Phil's face at the end of his arrow. Having not found that particular terror he pushed the rest into the box formerly for Phil and shoved it back to become nightmares.

The scepter gave you what you wanted. Loki was a disgruntled prince with daddy issues who’d wanted a purpose after his home was lost to him. Erik Selvig was a dedicated scientist, forever searching for knowledge and truth. Clint, he didn’t need knowledge or truth or purpose, he had Phil. Rather than have Phil stripped from him he played the good little soldier and good little soldiers only needed orders.

Somewhere in there he found himself volunteering to pilot Captain America. Oh, Phil was going to be _so_ jealous.


	17. An Awkward Flight: Take Two

Steve Rogers was nothing like Clint had been expecting. Not that he was entirely sure _what_ he'd been expecting of his husband's biggest hero but it definitely wasn't this. Steve Rogers was quite possibly the most awkward human being Clint had ever met. He was the perfect straight man but seriously: Most. Awkward. Human. Ever.

After a few jabs he just stood there like he had no idea what to even do with himself. Ok, take that back, he wasn't _just_ standing there he was also staring at Clint. Full on staring. Captain America may have legendary leadership skills but Steve Rogers apparently had absolutely no people skills.

For the most part Clint just tried to ignore it, opting instead to focus on completing his pre-flight checks. Well, most of them. He didn't bother waiting for authorization. No one would have given it to him anyway. 

But after they'd been in the air for over half an hour Clint can't take it anymore, "Got a problem there, Captain?"

"No, no problem," at least Rogers had the wherewithal to look embarrassed, "sorry."

Clint kept pushing,"'Cause if you don't feel you can trust me..." It wasn't that Clint _really_ thought Captain Rogers still thought he was under Loki's control, but any sane person would be more than a little wary of Clint given the events of the last...he didn't actually know how long it had been.

"No!" Rogers interrupted, "I mean, Agent Romanoff says you're trustworthy I believe her." _There_ was the Captain. His every word dripped with conviction.

"Good," Natasha cut in, "We're going to need him."

He let Natasha take the conversation from there, he had other things to worry about, like getting them to New York and stopping Loki. Nat was right, everything he had done, all the death and chaos he had caused, that was on Loki and Clint was going to redeem himself by stopping him. Maybe if he kept telling himself that he might eventually believe it.

This had just been the worst day. It had probably been more than a day considering it had been nighttime when he was taken and then again in Stuttgart but he was pretty sure he hadn't slept yet, unless being knocked unconscious counted, so he was calling it one day. And it really had been the worst one.

He couldn't wait until this was all over and he could finally rest. He let himself craft a little daydream about crawling into bed with Phil, sleeping for three days straight, and then maybe revisiting that honeymoon idea. He'd prefer _their_ bed but at this point he wasn't picky. Hell, at this point it didn't even have to be a bed, just a horizontal surface...the floor even, as long as it involved Phil and sleep he was game. But, their bed sounded heavenly. So that was his plan: Take out Loki, find Phil, and sleep.

Commence step one.


	18. Step One

New York, when they got there, was a mess. They'd known it was a slim chance that Stark could stop Loki from opening the portal but Stark had been known to pull off slim chances before. Really the fact he was still alive was testament in itself to that. Going up against a genocidal alien being on your own was near suicidal. Of course, Stark had a history of that too.

Once they were in range to even be of any help Nat switched on the comms, already tuned to Stark's frequency, "Stark, we're on your three, headed northeast."

Stark's response came over clear, immediate, and a bit overwhelmed, "What? Did you stop for drive through? Swing up Park. I'm going to lay them out for you."

"I don't understand every other word that comes out of his mouth," Rogers said from the back.

"Don't worry about it, Cap," Natasha assured him, "It's just a Stark thing."

"Of course it is," Rogers responded before muttering something about fondue and people speaking English.

Clint wondered if that was some inside joke, what it might feel like to have no one left that knew what it meant, before focusing all of his attention back on getting them up Park and through the thick of the swarm on their way to Stark Tower. He had a delirious moment where he wished he was the one manning the weapons rather than the controls before he remembered he was the one on board that could actually fly the 'jet. Nat knew enough to get them to the ground, in ideal conditions, on level ground, and last  he checked Captain Rogers' only experience was a literal crash landing. So, yeah, Clint was on controls, but that didn't stop the itch in his fingers or the desperation in his voice when he spotted Loki standing tall, proud, and exposed on Stark's ostentatious walkway, "Nat?"

He heard the reassurance in her voice, "I see him." _I've got him. You just worry about flying._

Which is a good thought given the next thing they do is spiral toward the ground. It's all Clint can do to keep them level and thank his "inhuman" aim that the worst thing he does is hit a few abandoned cars. Of course the first thing his husband's big hero sees him do is crash.

Ok, second thing.

The first thing he saw him do was lead an assault on his coworkers.

Great day for first impressions, Clint.


	19. Conservation of Mind and Arrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look it's a new chapter. And I finally have a computer so hopefully that will translate into faster updates.

Running out of the downed 'jet and onto the street was running full tilt into war. Something Clint _tried_ to deliberately avoid whenever possible. He was a sniper. That whole "seeing better from a distant thing?" Yeah, he rocked that. But this? This was _war_ up close and more personal than he had ever experienced it before. He'd been in war, he was a soldier that answered to "agent," but that war had always been in faraway places. Places of unrest. Places the people now running scared saw on the news and pitied.

So, yeah, war. Been there, done that.

But this was _home_. Even just the fact that he didn't have to memorize a street map at the start of this was a trip in itself. The thing about war was it always looked worse at ground level. Sure from the air you could see the grand scope of the destruction something as small as a difference of opinion could wrought on humanity. Seeing it up close, being part of it, that's what made the true horror visible. When corpses became bodies became faces. When hysteria became screams became individual words.

This.

This is what he had helped to bring about. Unwillingly. But the point still stood, this war would not have begun if not for his assistance.

This was also not the time for that. This was time to put a stop to it.

“You think you can hold them off?” Rogers asked.

“Captain," Clint responded with a smirk, already selecting the best arrow, "it would be my genuine pleasure.” Time for a new impression, time to show Captain America what he had.

Scatter arrow: always good for showing off and really ideal for this scenario. Normally his go to show off shot was firing three arrows simultaneously at a small target. Phil always got after him for wasting equipment just to showboat but in his mind it was always worth it. Though, looking around now and doing a mental count of his remaining arrows, he could really see where Phil was coming from. Even if no more aliens came through he would run out long before the last baddie was down, let alone have an arrow left over for Loki. Ok players, the name of the game is conservation. One shot, maximum kills. Ready. And. Begin.

The scatter arrow took out the closest ones and giving Natasha a nice buffer to lay down cover fire before the next wave. Clint left her to it, after all, she definitely had more bullets than he did arrows. Natasha had always been able to hold her own in a fire fight. True she was, first and foremost, a spy but turns out she wasn't so bad a soldier either.

Captain Rogers stuck around for minute, almost as if doubting their ability to hold off that many hostiles at once, before he took off down the street in the direction Loki had just gone. Clearly he had never seen them work before. They may only be human but they were hardly defenseless. In fact, with Natasha being, well, Natasha, Clint was the token soft and squishy of the team. Boy, if that didn't instill a guy with confidence.

 Priority was clearing out that bus of civilians trapped behind them. He could do this. He had been _trained_ to do this. Being a Shield agent was about saving lives. Of course, Clint was also an assassin so there was that, but at the end of the day he had to believe the lives he saved outweighed the ones he was forced to take. Though this time around it was less forced and more made to feel like it was his idea, with the blue haze in front of his eyes. He'd fought it.

The blue compelled him to shoot, it didn't compel him to kill. It wasn't necessary. It told him what was necessary and he did it unquestioningly but nothing beyond. He'd managed to miss Fury and Hill but that didn't help the two security guards in Stuttgart.

Civilians out of the way it was back into the fray. 32 arrows... Wait. Scatter arrow. _31_ arrows. Got to make them last.

Then Nat comes out with, "Just like Budapest all over again."

If it weren't for the aliens buzzing about like so many angry bees Clint would have been able to given into his impulse to look at her like she was crazy, because clearly she was. Budapest had been... This was _war_. Against _aliens._ It was everything Budapest wasn't.

"You and I remember Budapest very differently." Even as he was replying his attention was already elsewhere because _The hell was that_? _Was Stark..._

Yep, Stark was headed straight for the flying alien transport slug. No wonder the man had a reputation for having a death wish. He certainly acted like it. Never before had Clint seen a genius make so many, _many_ , bad decisions.


	20. Head of the Line

The lull in active fighting that followed Thor’s arrival worked just find for Clint. His 32 arrows were down to 28. Letting Natasha lay down the primary fire and using his arrows, and bow, as melee weapons, something he was going to have to make up to her, the bow not Natasha, had aided his conservation. Rule 1 of being a sniper: let the ground troops take the easy shots…actually, rule 1 was don’t get spotted so that was something like rule 3, behind: protect your team and don’t die, which arguably could be considered a subset of “don’t get spotted” so rule 2 then.

Regardless, the moment he registered the break in the swarm he began retrieving his arrows. Or, at least the shafts. Wonderful thing this quiver, able to hold extra tips giving him the ability to either use all standard or mix it up with whatever tricks the situation called for. Just retrieve the arrow, chuck the sticky bit, return to quiver and you’re back in business. Speaking of business…

“I have unfinished business with Loki.”

_Yeah, no._

“Yeah? Well, get in line.”

_You weren’t the first person to be betrayed by their brother._

Thor could get in all the lines and in each of them Clint was there first. All Loki had done to him was betray him. It was Clint who was on the receiving of all the fun stuff. In the back of his mind the box labeled “lottery numbers” ebbed blue.

In the beginning, he could feel the blue rooting through his mind. Hands like blue tendrils of mist and water and ice, dense, flowing, and solid, touching every part of him. The first thing it found was a box labeled "learnin'" containing the intelligence Clint couldn't remember why he'd ever hid.

Now he could remember every decision he had made for Loki. Every turn, every shot. He could see each face, known and not, that had received them.

He was grateful when Stark “brought the party.” Anything was better on dwelling on those blue memories. He really could have lived without him blowing the damn thing up, even if it did divert it from falling on them.

_Oh good the closest cover is closer to the exploding thing. Love it when that happens._

Still with the big one out of the way the little soldiers would much easier to pick off.

Then the screaming stops, the sky heaves, and…

_Suddenly this just got a whole lot harder._

Clint was glad his quiver was back to full because from the looks of things everything they had done up till now was just warm up.

Thankfully, Captain America had a plan. But, “roof?” All these building were skyscrapers by the time he got up there the battle would be over. He was definitely going to need a ride and with the quinjet thoroughly out of commission that left…

"Wanna give me a lift?" Luckily, Stark was on board with the idea. Though…"That was a bad idea,” Clint coughed out when his feet made contact with the graveled rooftop.

Stark, the bastard, just cackled, “You’re welcome to take the stairs next time.”

Clint couldn’t help but smirk. He was beginning to _like_ Stark. He could only imagine what Phil would say about that. _At least it will be interesting._

_I don’t need any more ”interesting” in my life, Barton. You and Shield are more than enough._

If Phil was here, if this _were_ a Strike Team Delta mission they’d probably be driving Nat crazy filling up the comms with banter while planning their honeymoon. If Phil was here…

 _Clint_ wasn’t supposed to be here. He hadn’t even been flagged for the Avengers Initiative. Natasha had but he hadn’t. But something happened to Nat is the Red Room…Whenever she did talk about that place she could talk about “becoming the Black Widow” like it was a transformation not all that unlike Captain Rogers. It wasn’t something she would ever talk about in detail but Clint had gleaned enough to know she was something a little _more_ than human since.

So, Nat would’ve joined the Avengers with Bobby taking her place on Strike Team Too-Human-For-the-Avengers with Clint.

Of course, maybe this had been Fury’s plan all along. Not the whole Alien god brainwashing thing because, come on, not even the All Seeing Eye could have seen _that_ one coming.

But at this moment Clint wasn’t feeling completely human himself. He clung to the idea that it was nothing a nice week in a cottage in the middle of nowhere honeymooning with Phil.


End file.
